


Yellow Flicker Beat

by Lil_Yanna17



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Ficlet, No Smut, No Spoilers, Other, Short, Steggy - Freeform, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, Writing, american hero, headcannons, inspired by lorde, its finals week, sad Steve, sorry its only a paragraph, steve rogers - Freeform, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5431271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Yanna17/pseuds/Lil_Yanna17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I decided that Yellow Flicker Beat by Lorde is Steve. His life is sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Flicker Beat

Captain, oh how important he was. He shaped the Country, oh he was an inspiration. Movies, comics, a good influence on the war torn world. The kids could smile at him, and he’d smile back. A symbol of hope and trust. America, being the newest and wealthy country. A military powerhouse who can save, They used to praise him, now he’s a silent whisper.

“American?” Betrayal, looked down upon. He’s destroyed cities, lives. He’s destroyed the fundamentals of what they wanted America to be. To him, the flag is a piece of cloth. Shivers roll over his scarred shoulders, dead eyes look back at him. Silver and gold streaks in his torn soul keep him motivated. Quiet, but loud. What is he fighting for? To prove a point he made as a naive child trying to make a stand for himself? Was he even going to help in the first place? What is his purpose beside being a machine, a fighting figure for things he doesn’t want anymore? He’s died years ago, his old loves died after him. A ghost, a kiss and a touch means nothing if he doesn’t have a fighting chance of being someone else other than what they all wanted and needed him to be. A savior. Yes, they understood him, but what can they say now? Locking up everyone that ever laid a finger on him, he looks at old faded memories. What he used to be, a symbol for what was right, no grey areas, black and white ideas. Now? He’s hushed. Hunted quietly. Running, running from the burning voices. Vigilante, a hate filled whisper, he needs to be stopped. No one talks about how morally correct he is, how he was once an inspiration, he’s an enemy. Hunted.


End file.
